Whistle For The Choir
by shockin'blueeyes
Summary: But really, you'd been so wrapped up in your grief that you didn't notice her long drawn out silences,or the fact that she was still a mistery to you. Like the fool you are, you ignored the warnings, and now you're alone. Post DH


This songfic has been approximately one year in the making, I kid you not. I've worked in this far longer than any other story I've ever done, and it's just a oneshot. But, somehow, this is special, I don't know, I'm actually very sad I've finished writing it. It's really just an idea that popped into my head while I listened to the song, and I just couldn't get rid of it, so here it is.

The song is Whistle For The Choir, by The Fratellis. Is the most heart-breaking, beautiful song I've ever heard, as corny as that sounds.

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><p>Disclaimer: I don't own anything, sadly<p>

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><p><em><strong>Well it's a big big city<strong>_

_**and it's always the same**_

You walk through the street, clutching more tightly your cloak around you as the wind keeps getting stronger and stronger. Sighing, you race the last steps down muggle London towards the Leaky Cauldron, cursing the moment you decided you wanted to take a walk that evening. Why did you want to anyway? You have made the same walk for the last four years every bloody day. You have the path carved in your mind, and you are confident you could make it home with your eyes closed. After all, even if the city is big, it never changes, right?

Nothing seems to change these days. Always the same streets, always the same people, always the same pain.

_**Can never be too pretty **_

_**tell me your name**_

When you enter Diagon Alley and collide with her due to your self-induced reverie, she simply smiles and helps you back up, and you in exchange invite her to lunch.

Over lunch, you observe her, and you're surprised to find she has changed into a woman rather nice to look at. Her dirty blond hair, still too long, falls down her back in wavy locks, and she's wearing some sort of polka dotted robe that brings out the blue of her eyes. She doesn't seem the same girl that skipped down the corridors of Hogwarts, but at the same time she looks exactly the same. Maybe that's what they call growing up.

_**Is it out of line **_

_**if I were simply bold to say **_

_**"Would you be mine"?**_

Before you can stop yourself, you open your mouth and ask the stupidest question ever – _Would you be mine?_ – really? If Fred was here, he would be ashamed of you, George. But the catch is, he isn't here, isn't he? He left you bloody alone, didn't he? So you ask it, and after a two second pause, she nods, and it's the beginning of something you would describe as the beginning of the end, but maybe it was the end of the beginning. Who knows?

_**Because I may be a beggar **_

_**and you maybe the queen**_

_**I know I may be on a downer **_

_**I am still ready to dream**_

However, she said you never put any conditions on when you would make her yours, and for the next weeks you beg, you plea and you crawl on your knees until she cracks up and lets you get her into bed, and you make a little victory dance before you proceed to led her to your bedroom.

That night, when she sleeps peacefully on your chest, long blond hair displayed around her like and halo and tickling your throat, you stare at the ceiling, feeling the sinking feeling in your heart, something you use to do before succumbing to sleep every night since he died. You then look at the sleeping form on top of you and close your eyes, allowing yourself to fantasize for a moment what would it feel like to wake up every moment to her body pressed next to yours.

_**Now it's 3 o'clock **_

_**time it takes for you to talk**_

But really, you've been so wrapped up in your grief you don't notice her long drawn out silences, and you always knew she was a strange kid, but the silences remind you painfully at the ones you seem to get in whenever you think of Fred too much.

**_You try to get her to talk, but she just smiles that smile of hers and kisses you, and what's a boy to do?_**

_**So if you're lonely **_

_**why'd you say you're not lonely**_

_**Oh you're a silly girl, **_

_**I know I hurt it so**_

You've never been able to read people very well, that was rather Fred's job, but you can obviously tell there's something wrong with the woman. You've never seen her in the company of anyone that isn't you, and despite your offers of meeting up with some friends, she denies it, saying she's alright, she's okay, and that she already has a handful with you, she doesn't need more people. How very strange. A person should have more than one friend.

_**It's just like you to come and go **_

_**you know me **_

_**no you don't even know me **_

_**Your so sweet to try, **_

_**oh my, you caught my eye **_

_**A girl like you's just irresistible**_

You never know when she's going to show up, but you learn to stop being surprised when she turns up in your doorstep at two o'clock in the morning, only to leave an hour later. She's just so strange, she's a mystery to you.

When you go out together somewhere, she knows always what to ask for you that you like. You always like what she chooses, but you can't help but feel a little bit annoyed that she knows your favourite food and you don't know hers. Well, you tell yourself, she doesn't know you, she doesn't know what you've been through, and you don't know what she's been through, so you're at peace.

And apart those rather drawn out silences, she's a fucking sweet girl, and she seems to capture the light of a room when she enters. She's just plain irresistible.__

_**Well it's a big big city**_

_**and the lights are all out **_

_**But it's much as I can do **_

_**you know to figure you out  
><strong>_

Ah, but you're so stupid to think that she could open up to you, and one night, when you ask her – well, more like _demand_ – to tell you what the silences are all about, she leaves. Just like that, no goodbye, no see-you-later, no nothing. You know she won't be back. You just know it. And you are left wondering what the hell you did wrong, and you vow to yourself to find out what exactly is going up with her. You were always up for a good challenge, anyway.

_**And I must confess, **_

_**my heart's in broken pieces**_

_**And my head's a mess**_

But even if you don't like to acknowledge it, her absence has left a hole in your heart, not as big as the one Fred left, of course, but a hole nonetheless. You wonder if your heart is even still there, after all the blows and kicks and punches it has taken over the last few years.

And your heart isn't the only one who's facing an existence crisis. Your head's also all bloated and confused, and you can't figure out for the life of you why you're in this state. Okay that Luna had somehow wormed her way into your life, but you had put barriers, hadn't you? It wasn't as though you were boyfriend and girlfriend, wasn't it? It was just a casual relationship, something light and not to be taken seriously, like you wished your whole life would be, that is, until Fred died.

_**And it's 4 in the morning, **_

_**and I'm walking along**_

_**Beside the ghost of every drinker here **_

_**who has ever done wrong**_

And you hate her for it, but you can't help but think of Fred dying when you think of her leaving, and all the efforts you had done since he died just go down the drain, and you're suddenly almost back to square one, not sleeping, drinking more than necessary and staring longingly at the door of Fred's room.

As a result of that, you start frequenting the Leaky Cauldron at untimely hours, which seemed to always be filled with the same people, sorrowful beings who seemed to be searching rather desperately for something at the bottom of a glass of firewhiskey, though you didn't know what it was they were searching for. Sometimes, when you're at your lowest, you wonder if you've become one of them, if all there's left of your life is a glass filled with spirits.

_**And it's you, woo hoo**_

_**That's got me going crazy for the things you do  
><strong>_

So you haven't tried to floo her, or visit her, or even track her down. So what? It's not like she has told where she lives, anyway. That should have make warning bells ring when you thought about it, but instead it only generated more sorrow, knowing that even after all the time you had spent together, she hadn't trusted you enough to tell you. You spend hours thinking about that, taking apart and dissecting every little thing she did, committing them to memory, but you can never fully understand why she seemed so eager to learn all about you but never talked about her. What had her life been like after the war? You know very little, and what you know isn't useful at all. So basically, you're just running around in circles, waiting for an epiphany to come to you, and driving yourself bonkers over the matter that she's gone, like every person you seem to care about greatly does.

_**So if you're crazy **_

_**I don't care you amaze me **_

_**Oh you're a stupid girl, **_

And like that, the weeks and months pass, and eventually your ardent desire to figure out what was wrong with Luna passes too, and you slowly start to accept the fact that maybe all the said about her was true, that she was just a loony, crazy girl, and that what was wrong with her was merely her insanity showing. But somehow, the more you 'accept' this theory of yours, the more you don't care about what the real reason for her departure were. You just want her back, so bad. Why couldn't God, or the powers from above, or whoever is up there, if there is someone there at all, give you back what you had lost? You aren't asking for an impossible thing, are you? It isn't as though Luna is dead, and you are fairly sure you aren't dead (dead people surely don't feel as much as you do).

You really can't make out why she left. If she had a horrible secret, why not sharing it with you? She couldn't be that daft to think whatever she was passing through was worse that what you had passed through? No amount of trouble, pain or agony will ever equal what you have been through ever since you saw Fred lying on the cold floor of the Great Hall.

_**Oh me, oh my, you talk**_

_**I die, you smile, you laugh, I cry**_

After a while, the images and memories start to get blurry at the edges, and you're not sure if it is because of the insane amounts of alcohol, or the passing of time, or just everything combined at once. Maybe you're finally healing, and the disappearing of the memories is just another side effect of the end of your mourning.

But if you're finally getting out of the dark place you've been the last four years, and are now able to think of Fred without getting down _too much_, why is it that everything having to do with Luna is still in your head?

Now that nightmares of Fred's death have subsided, nightmares of a different kin have started to plague your dreams, and sometimes, your waking hours, and they all involve Luna. Her laugh, her smile, her dreamy voice every time she talked about creatures that didn't exist… they all come back to haunt you, to tease you for what you've lost, and more than once you just want to lash out and break something, to scream and curse and flail your arms around, because it isn't fair, damnit, it isn't fair that sorrow for Fred has stopped, if only to become bereable, only to be replaced by sorrow for the crazy blond girl. What's going to be next? Have nightmares about the death of your owl?

_**And only, **_

_**a girl like you could be lonely **_

_**And it's a crying shame, **_

_**if you would think the same**_

It takes a long time, but eventually the nightmares about her stop, and they aren't replaced by something else. Eventually you stop wondering why she went away that night, why she left without so much as an explanation, and one morning, you wake up and realize you don't care anymore.

You can stop looking for your answer in the bottom of firewhiskey glasses and butterbeer pints, and the unanswered questions don't bother you anymore. It's easier to leave them all there, in a corner of your mind, right next to the one occupied by Fred's absence.

And maybe because you've stopped looking, the answer of why she left comes to you. Or rather, you make it up, but it's there nonetheless and that's enough. She was lonely because she wanted to be, not because something was stopping her from trusting others, especially him. She was what she wanted to be, and even if it brought him to the verge of tears thinking about all the joy she deserved and would probably never get because of that, he respected her decision.

The answer was probably wrong, and the goal of his assumptions was probably more to appease himself than to know the truth, but hey, who was objective these days?

_**A boy like me's just irresistible  
><strong>_

And so you went on with your life, blissfully unaware of the fact that you have been wrong all along, but not because the answer was incorrect, but the question.

Because, in fact, Luna had left because she had already done what she'd come into your life to do. And what exactly had she come into your sorry existence to do?

That was the right question. And what was the right answer?

Well, she had come to save you from yourself, you stupid, silly, irresistible boy.

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><p>Okay, so that might not seem like it, but it was emotionally draining.<p>

Hope you liked it, but really, just review, after how long I've invested in this, it'd seriously make my day if you reviewed.

Extra points to anyone who's able to tell me what saving George from himself means, and how Luna leaving (and the pain that caused him) helped him in the long run.


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